It Catches Up With You
by nicelynicelyjohnson
Summary: When Carl's spoilt niece joins the adventure she ends up learning more about herself and the world, both good and bad, than her sheltered life could ever offer her. Jimmy/OC
1. Age Old Favours

**It Catches Up With You**

Summary:When Carl's spoilt niece joins the adventure she ends up learning more about herself and the world, both good and bad, than her privileged life could ever offer her. (Jimmy/OC)

Disclaimer: King Kong and it's characters/plot belong to the respective owners. Any original characters are the work of the author and are works of pure fiction. And to the people I work with, I swear to God that nobody in this story is based on you. Promise. Ish.

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><p>The very first thing that Eleanor Patterson said to her daughter Cora, on the morning of the twenty fifth, was "Oh Cora, not <em>again<em>?"

Cora, a skinny girl of eighteen, tore her gaze away from the morning newspaper and blinked groggily at her mother. "What?" She remarked, the remains of a slice of toast dangling idly from her fingers.

Eleanor narrowed her eyes critically. "Don't say 'what' like that Cora – it's vulgar. Say – I beg your pardon."

Cora raised both eyebrows in a manner she hoped questioned her mother's sanity, but obliged. "I beg your pardon mother?"

"This." Eleanor said purposefully, reaching across and tapping the careless bun that Cora had absently yanked her hair into that morning, errant strands escaping in various directions, giving her the appearance of a small explosion. "This half-hearted attempt at presentation sweetie, it's really not becoming."

Cora was halfway through her retort of 'who am I trying to impress at the breakfast table' when Eleanor resumed her offensive.

"And the stocks and shares! Oh Cora, wouldn't you prefer something a little more….well, light hearted?"

Cora folded the paper neatly and set it aside. "It's habit mom, remember? Dad and I used to…"

"Every Friday morning." Eleanor murmured. "Yes I remember." She sighed, implying a degree of forgotten fondness for her late husband. Suddenly she was back to her brisk self. "Anyway, eat up and get Mrs Lansbury to fix that abomination of a style." Mrs Lansbury was the family's housekeeper, who had worked as combined cook, cleaner and nanny to Cora's family since Cora was six years old.

"What's the big rush?" Cora asked as Eleanor fussed around their comfortable house. One positive thing that had come out of losing her first husband, Maxwell, was the generous savings that he had left his wife and children, earned from years of canny business deals. It was enough to keep his family secure for as long as possible, at least until Eleanor had married husband number two. Theodore George Patterson the third, wealthy factory owner. A shmuck, Cora decided whenever reminded of cheerful, bustling Theo, but a nice shmuck. Never tried to usurp into the father role, or be overbearing with offers of forced false friendship. The fact that he was away in Chicago for most of the year was an additional plus. "And anyway, she can't."

"Who can't what honey?" Eleanor asked, adjusting her hat in the hall mirror. Cora scuttled after her.

"Mrs Lansbury. She left last night, remember?"

Eleanor froze. "What?" She yelped.

"To Baltimore. She said so weeks ago." Cora paused. "Her son's getting married,she'll be back in a few days anyway…" She trailed off, becoming increasingly aware of her mother repeatedly muttering the words 'no, no, no' under her breath.

"This isn't happening." Eleanor gasped, becoming increasingly more flustered by the minute. "I'm going to Paris for the next two weeks, she needs to be here!"

"Mom, relax!" Cora said, alarmed at her mother's panic. "I can look after myself until Mrs Lansbury gets back!"

"Don't be ridiculous Cora you can barely look after yourself without looking like some artsy lower class ragbag." Eleanor snapped. "Can't you stay with Violet from school?"

"Out of town with her parents." Cora replied.

"Helena? Alice?"

"They can't take me in; they're barely scraping by as it is. Not everyone is as lucky as us at the moment."

"I know, I know…" Eleanor sighed, clasping her hand together melodramatically.

Cora took a hopeful step forward. "I could come with you?" She suggested tentatively.

Eleanor gaped at her youngest daughter before bursting into cruel laughter. "Cora, darling, that's absurd!" She trilled. "Not your sort of scene at all and besides, you still needquite a bit of refinement before I unleash you on Parisian society!"

"But I thought-" Cora began sadly, but was once again interrupted.

"No, no, you'd be far better off staying in the city. Perhaps you could arrange to see that nice young accountant I introduced you to- Howard, wasn't it?"

Cora rolled her eyes. "Ugh, please mother. I made it quite clear to dear Howard that I was not interested in the slightest."

Eleanor's face dropped. "Why ever not?"

"Well." Cora began, retreating to her bedroom and selecting a brush. "I'm not sure what repulsed me more, the wandering hands or the bad breath!"

"Cora!"

"It's true." Scowling into the mirror, she began to run the brush through her thick brown hair. "I informed him what a disgusting little man he was and he didn't take it well."

Frustrated, Eleanor stamped her foot. "Cora Rose Denham, you will be the death of me!" She strode across the room and snatched the brush away. "You will never be married at this rate! Do you want to end up an old maid?"

"No, but I don't want to marry someone like Howard, why on earth would I?"

"He earns good money!"

"Ha! And that's all that counts?" Cora sneered.

"I only want security for you." Eleanor stated sanctimoniously.

"Sadie was _at least_ twenty before she met Alfred."

"She was lucky." Eleanor fumed. "And don't think that bringing your sister into this will get you anywhere."

"Oh please!" Cora snapped rudely. "It was inevitable; you can hardly ever wait to tell the whole world how goddamn perfect Sadie is!"

"You shut your mouth!" Eleanor's last words rang into a tense silence as mother and daughter glared at each other. Eventually Eleanor sniffed deeply, straightened her shoulders and composed herself.

"Pack your bags."

A feeling of dread settled in Cora's stomach "Why?"

"Because I know where you can stay." She marched out of the untidy bedroom, her hands tightly in fists.

Cora ran to the door. "Where are we going?"

"I'm calling in a favour." Her mother announced. "From your Uncle Carl!"


	2. Memories of Better Days

**Chapter 2**

Eleanor hailed a cab and, suitcase in hand, Cora reluctantly climbed in behind her. The last time Cora had even spoken to her uncle Carl was four years before and what she remembered was that Carl was loud and fairly obnoxious. Her mother still mentioned him in passing from time to time, albeit in a highly derogatory manner. He was a movie producer and when Max had been alive, his brother had been a regular dinner guest, bringing with him countless tales of his mishaps in movie making, which had made Cora's father roar with laughter and her mother purse her lips and frown. To Eleanor, Carl Denham was an embarrassment, put up with simply because he was family and because Max had helped him out of various tight spots.

"Mother…" Cora decided to attempt one last time to change Eleanor's mind. "Mrs Lansbury will be back before you know it. I'll be fine on my own."

"See, I wish I could believe that." Eleanor replied as she rummaged about in her handbag for a handkerchief. "But Cora, I remember what you did last time I left." She turned cold eyes on her daughter. "Believe me Cora, you have brought this on yourself."

The last time. That last time nearly six years ago, when her father had been found dead on the floor of a Californian hotel room by the hysterical maid, struck down by a major heart attack. The last time, when her mother had taken to her bed for weeks, leaving her two daughters in the care of the housekeeper, the elder burying herself in her studies, desensitising herself to the evils of the world, and the younger running wild in a children's street gang, staying out all hours, learning how to use her fists and to curse and to throw herself into a different world because the real world was just too much…

Cora sighed in resignation and glanced out of the cab window at the city outside. Her eyes glazed slightly, as if in protest to the sights sliding past. The boarded up businesses.

The Vaudeville Theater. Where she, Alice and Violet had seen the show only a week ago, laughed themselves silly and then sat in a café for hours after, gossiping and drinking coffee. That had been a good day and now the theater was closed too. Another victim of the economic crisis.

"_So." Violet set down her cup and dabbed her lips with a napkin. "Has your dearest mother found you another suitor yet?"_

_Cora snorted. "Oh my god. Don't even…"_

"_Oooh! Do tell, do tell!" Violet trilled as Alice giggled._

"_His name was Howard." Cora began. "Howard Mosely!"_

"_Sounds mysterious!" Alice interjected._

"_Sounds horrendous!" Cora replied. "He was awful! As awful as the rest! Mother insists on dragging up all these weedy little creeps with greasy hair and clammy hands!"_

"_So…" Violet mused. "Not your type?"_

_The three girls burst into laughter. "You can say that again!" Cora squeaked._

"_Not your type?"_

"_You can say that again!"_

"_Not your-"_

"_Oh stop, stop!" Alice cried, breaking up their little routine. "I can't bear it!"_

"_But what is your type I wonder…" Said Violet."Perhaps some romantic poet?"_

"_Or a charismatic shop keep!" Alice suggested. "Most unsuitable for a girl like you!"_

"_I don't have a type, you are being ridiculous!"_

"_Ignore her Alice." Violet declared. "When Cora gets her most unsuitable boy, we'll be the first to know."_

"Here we are." Eleanor announced stiffly. Cora broke out of her reverie to see they had pulled up in front of a set of apartment buildings. She grabbed her suitcase and stepped out onto the sidewalk, looking around and pulling her blue wool coat closer around her as Eleanor strode purposefully to the door and rang the bell.

A second storey window was suddenly flung open with a clatter and a head poked out, a round faced man with hair the same shade as Cora's fathers. "What?"

"I beg your pardon." Cora corrected him under her breath with a weak smile.

"Carl!" Eleanor stood back and bellowed up at him. "It's Eleanor! I need a favour!"

Paling visibly at the sight of his sister-in-law, Carl Denham slammed the window shut and appeared a few seconds later at the door, looking slightly more composed. "Eleanor!" He exclaimed, full of false charm."What do I owe the pleasure?"

Eleanor raked her gaze over him. "You're looking sharp Carl."

Carl shifted uncomfortably, realising his charming offensive had failed epically. "Yeah, I got a meeting with my investors. So. What's the favour?"

Grabbing Cora by her shoulder, Eleanor thrust her daughter forward. "I need you to look after Cora for a few days."

"Wait, what?" Carl spluttered.

"I'll be fine on my own." Cora grumbled feebly, but once again was blithely ignored.

"Just until our housekeeper gets back in town." Eleanor continued. "Cora's not _totally_ incapable; she just needs an eye kept on her to see she doesn't go entirely off the rails…"

"I've never been off the rails!" Cora protested.

Eleanor dug her nails deeper into Cora's shoulder. "She'll be no trouble!" She insisted.

"No, Eleanor, you don't understand." Carl placed a hand over his eyes. "I'm busy. I sail in less than twenty four hours to film my next picture, if this meeting goes well. I'll be in Singapore, El! Singapore!"

"Then take her with you. She's a fine traveller. You took her to Africa all those years ago for your safari picture and she was good as gold, wasn't she?" A threatening edge crept into Eleanor's tone. "Besides Carl, you still owe us for that time you upset those mobsters…"

Carl spluttered agitatedly before sighing in resignation. He knew he was cornered. "Alright, fine. Fine. But I warn you, it's not gonna be fun."

Eleanor flashed her society-ready charming smile. "You're a darling, Carl. I'll be back in two Cora, sweetheart!" And with a smart turn back to the cab, she was gone.

Cora stared after her, a tight feeling of abandonment in her chest, suddenly feeling twelve years old again, her father gone and her mother retreated into a comatose state of private mourning.

"C'mon." Carl grumbled. "We're meeting my assistant in five minutes." Hitching her suitcase into a better grip, Cora followed him quickly down the busy street.

Carl's assistant was a young, yet long-suffering, man named Preston. Horrifically sincere and eager to please, his main distinguishing feature was a pair of round glasses. The three of them took a cab downtown and as they reached the offices where Carl's meeting was to be held, he turned and shoved a few dollars into her hands.

"Meet us at Café Paolo at five. Got it?"

"Got it." Cora took the bills and began to count through them.

"Excellent. Preston, if you would…" The two men turned and stepped inside and Cora was left with her suitcase and ten extra dollars.

She sniffed resolutely. She'd meet them all right. But first, she had a job to do, one that her uncle Carl had just unwittingly helped her out with.


	3. A Face from the Past

3.

After a quick visit to a few nearby stores, Cora hopped onto a passing tram and headed towardsCentral Park. In the paper bag under her arm was a loaf of bread, some cheese, a few carrots and potatoes and a bar of chocolate. This had become somewhat of a custom to take these such items down to the park, but rarely of this quality. _Thank you Uncle Carl _Cora thought to herself, as the shacks that made up the Central Park Hooverville came into sight. The first time she had ventured into the shanty town, she had been absolutely terrified of being mugged or attacked. But most of the people here, she grew to realise, were good folks, just unlucky, fallen on bad times. She soon spotted, amongst the tumbledown houses that had been thrown together, the person she was looking for.

"Alex!" She called to the tall fair haired youth stacking battered crates against the doorway of a nearby shack. He glanced up and smiled.

"Well, well, well, Missy Cora." He stuck his hands on his hips and put on an affected southern drawl."Now what brings you to these here parts?"

She shoved the bag into his arms. "Thought you might be needing this."

Alex glanced inside. "Aw Cora, you're too good."

"Nonsense." She said firmly. "You got mouths to feed."

With that, Alex's smallest sister, a six year old named Jenny, came running out. "Cora, Cora!"

"Hey!" She swept the little girl up and spun her around. "Miss Jenny, I am sure you get bigger and bigger every time I see you. You are growing like a weed!"

"Look." The little girl insisted, once back on solid ground. "My tooth fell out!"

Alex and his four siblings had been a major feature in Cora's life for the past seven years. Two years older, Alex had met Cora when she was eleven years old and testing the waters of rebellion. As the years past they grew as close as siblings and when Alex's family had been evicted after his father lost his job, Cora had vowed to help them survive. After all, Alex had been there for Cora through the worst times.

_Six years earlier._

"_So how about it?"_

"_You want me to join your gang?" Cora blinked up through red-rimmed eyes. "What about Sadie, she's real smart and…"_

"_No, not Sadie." the boy interrupted. "Just you Cora. You're tough. And anyways it'll be fun. We got the docks as our turf and nobody's gonna take it."_

_The girl scrubbed her eyes with her sleeve. "I dunno…"_

"_Cora." Alex said gently. "It's all gonna be okay."_

_And Cora looked into those honest eyes, and tried not to think of her father going into the ground, and nodded. "Okay Alex. I'll join."_

_He brightened. "Well come on then!" He reached out a hand. "Peter Jones says he's found a good place for a hideout. We'll see if he's right!"_

_Taking the hand, Cora and Alex ran off down the street into whatever lay ahead of her._

"So you're gonna be out of town for a while?"

"Singapore. At least that's what Carl says. Who knows, we could end up in India or something." Cora said with a shrug. The two of them were sat outside the hut, sipping tea Mrs Morgan had brewed. "He's hoping to leave in the next couple of days."

"And what does your mom say about this?" Alex asked nonchalantly.

Cora caught on immediately. "It was her idea. She doesn't care about me hanging out with sailors and actors and bohemians when it means her plans can go ahead without any trouble."

Alex gazed idly into his chipped and cracked mug. "No offense Cor, but your Mom is…kind of a bitch."

Cora burst out laughing. "None taken, I agree with you!" She sighed. "If my dad was still around…I know he'd stand up for me."

"Well this Carl character can't be all bad if he's your dad's brother." Alex commented.

Cora inhaled deeply as she considered her next words. "Carl is…well, jeez. What is Carl? What is Carl Denham? I'd say the guy practically lives on good intentions." She thought back to her last meeting with Carl, when they had ventured to Africa to film a safari picture. She'd been so much younger then and had been far more fascinated by the distant land than to how her uncle had even treated her. "They just don't always…translate. I spent most of that Africa trip hanging out with the crew and watching lions. They were good guys."

"The lions?" Alex asked with a smirk.

"The crew, you dolt!" Cora laughed, fondly cuffing him upside the head.

"When will you be back, d'ya know?" Alex asked, his jovial exterior faltering slightly.

Cora's smile faded. "A couple of weeks. You gonna be okay?"

Alex reached over and took her hand. "Don't you worry about us. We'll survive. And when you come back I'm sure you'll have a hundred and one stories for Jenny."

Cora smiled and squeezed her friend's hand. "Thanks Al." She murmured before catching sight of her watch. "Ah jeez, I should run. I'm meant to be meeting the uncle in thirty." She stood up. "Thank your mom for the tea."

"I will." He muttered quietly. "And Cor?"

She turned back to him.

"Stay safe, okay?"

Cora's breath caught slightly in her throat. Having known each other for so many years, Alex had this uncanny knack of saying exactly the right thing and right then it caught her completely off guard. She managed to take a breath and stammer back "Yeah…" before taking a step back towards her best friend, straight into his arms.

"I dunno what's going to happen." She whispered faintly into his shoulder. "I'm really scared."

"I know." Alex replied soothingly. "I know."


	4. Beyond Control

Good lord, this chapter has taken_ forever_ to write. Anyway. Thanks for your paitence. Anyone watching the Sherlock finale tonight? Nervewracking!

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><p><strong>4.<strong>

Night was beginning to fall as Café Paolo came into view. The place was nothing special, but it was good food and good value, for those with any money left. Checking for traffic, Cora hurried across the road and glanced through the window, but Carl and Preston were nowhere to be seen.

"Typical." She sighed to herself, nudging the door open with her free arm. She ordered a cup of hot chocolate and sat down at an empty table. "Typical, typical Carl." She muttered crossly to herself before realising with a jolt of horror that she sounded exactly like her mother.

In an attempt shake the unease from her mind, she reached into her bag and pulled out a book; _Pride and Prejudice_, by Jane Austen. It had arrived only a week ago, along with a letter from her older sister, Sadie. _Read it Cory,_ she'd urged her _I know you'll love it._ So far, Cora had found the novel entertaining enough; the fussy Mrs Bennet reminding her a great deal of her mother's futile attempts to get her married off. For all she complained about her oh-so-perfect sister, Cora still carried a certain fondness for the studious girl. Incredibly intelligent, she was rather more socially confident than her grumpy little sister. Cora still resented her mother's refusal for Sadie to pursue any sort of further education.

Taking a sip of chocolate, Cora opened the book.

_"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance."  
><em>_  
>"I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room, whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with."<em>

Cora smirked into the pages. Darcy sounded like an ass, but she liked his style. Rebellious, going against what everyone else wanted of him. She read on, occasionally checking the time and as half past five, six o'clock and six thirty slipped past, Cora began to worry. When Carl FINALLY burst through the door with the air of an Arctic adventurer returning to an admiring team, Cora leapt to her feet and called across the café; "Where _the hell_ were you?"

Refusing to let his niece's anger sway him, Carl practically danced across the room towards her. "Corinne!"

"Cora."

"Cora!" still nothing could quell his exuberance. "I'm so sorry, circumstances changed, fate intervened! May I…" he gestured to a tall blonde woman behind him. "Introduce you to Miss Ann Darrow?"

Baffled, Cora obliged and held out a hand. "Cora Denham…nice to meet you…"

Ann gave a small nervous smile and shook Cora's hand "Likewise." She was, Cora realised, with a slight pang of envy, overwhelmingly beautiful. In fact, Ann was the very image of what Eleanor probably wanted Cora to be; polite, charming and feminine.

When they were settled, Carl went to the counter to order food and drink and Ann leant towards Cora. "I'm sorry, I must ask – are you Mr Denham's daughter?"

Cora laughed in surprise. "Oh! No! No. I…" She smiled. "I am Carl's niece. He is…was…still is, I guess, my father's brother." She frowned. "Miss Darrow, if I may…Do I know you from somewhere?"

Ann looked down at the table. "You might. I, um. I used to be part of the Vaudeville show…"

"Vaudeville, huh?" Carl exclaimed, returning with a tray of coffee. "I worked Vaudeville once, now, that is a tough crowd!" He sat down and nudged Cora out of the way. "If you don't kill them fast, they kill you."

Their food arrived and Cora watched Ann's eyes widen at the full plate of food set in front of her. She recalled her own words to her mother that morning; _'not everyone's as lucky as us…'_the shutdown theater. The closed show. Ann obviously hadn't eaten properly for weeks, Cora realised as the woman dug into the food, visibly attempting to pace herself.

"Mr Denham," Ann began haltingly and Cora glanced back up from her book. "I want you to know that I'm not in the habit of accepting charity from strangers, or for that matter…" She lowered her voice slightly, clearly embarrassed. "Taking things that don't belong to me."

Cora decided that now would be an excellent time to return to _Pride and Prejudice_ and subtly raised the book a little higher, acting immersed in the story. Soon, however, the pages remained static in her hands as she eavesdropped on Carl's conversation.

"It was obviously a terrible misunderstanding…"

"It's just that, I haven't been paid in a while..."

"That's awful. Anyway, Ann - may I call you Ann?"

Cora felt the table shift slightly as Carl leant forward.

"You wouldn't happen to be a size four by any chance?"

Ann froze, a forkful of food halfway to her mouth. Cora's eyes flickered away from the page, wondering if she had missed something. Then, as Ann suddenly scraped her chair back and got to her feet, the penny dropped.

"You_. Shmuck_." Cora hissed vehemently at her uncle as he stammered his defence to a retreating Ann.

"I'm someone you can trust, Ann." He implored. "I'm a movie producer. Believe me, I am on _the level_."

The Denham brothers had been as different as chalk and cheese in almost everything bar this – their unfailing ability to appeal to people, to get them on their side.

"I want you to imagine a handsome explorer, bound for the Far East." Carl had begun to spin the tale of the film. They would film in the East, Singapore. On the way, the hero would run into a mysterious beauty, beautiful, yes, but also haunted, fragile...

Cora tried not to roll her eyes. The plot seemed rather predictable, the weak mysterious woman a stock figure, one dimensional, but pretty. But Ann seemed entranced, fascinated even.

"And sure enough, against her better judgement-"

"She falls in love." Ann cut in suddenly. Cora turned to see the other woman's eyes widened, almost dreamlike.

"But she doesn't trust it. She's not even sure if she believes in love."

Cora found herself closing her book slowly, her attention completely divided. Ann seemed to be a better story-teller than even her uncle, even if Ann herself was not quite aware of it. Even Carl seemed slightly thrown.

"If she loves someone," Ann was saying "it's doomed."

"Why is that?" Carl asked, and Ann delivered her coup de grace.

"Good things never last, Mr. Denham."

Something about that last sentiment hit Cora hard. It was true - the good things in life never seemed to last at all, being quickly swallowed up by pain and grief.

Ann suddenly seemed aware of the awkward silence that had settled on the trio's table and looked away. Carl, still a little lost by Ann's confession, glanced sideway at Cora.

She raised her eyebrows as if to reply 'Say something, you dolt."

"So you're interested? Good." Carl stood up suddenly, grabbing his hat and coat, Cora followed his lead. "That's settled then. I don't want to rush you - but we are under some time pressure here..."

Ann shifted nervously. "Well I really..."

"Ann!" Carl protested. "I'm telling you, You're perfect - look at you! You're the saddest girl I ever met ... you're gonna make `em weep, Ann - you're gonna break their hearts!"

Ann looked up with a quiet defiance. "See, that's where you're wrong, Mr. Denham, I make people laugh, that's what I do." She stood suddenly. "Good luck with your picture." She nodded to Cora. "Miss Denham..."

Carl flung his chair back and anxiously chased after Ann, pleading with her to reconsider. " You wanna read a script?" He gabbled desperately. "Jack Driscoll's turning in a draft as we speak!"

Ann stopped dead in her tracks and looked at Carl, stunned. **"**Jack Driscoll?" She echoed.

"Sure. Why - wait! You know him?"

"Well, no - not personally." She wavered. "I've seen his plays..." She was caught, Cora could see that, ensnared by the mere mention of the playwrights name.

Carl's eyes lit up, as if he sensed her interest. "What a writer, huh?" He began, excitedly. "And let me tell you Ann, Jack Driscoll doesn't want just anyone starring in this picture."

Unbelievable...Cora mused, tucking her coat over one arm.

" He said to me, 'Carl, somewhere out there is a woman born to play this role...' And as soon as I saw you, I _knew_..."

Ann surveyed him, uneasily. "Knew what?"

Carl played his trump card. "It was always going to be you."

"Forces beyond her control..." Cora whispered to herself. It seemed frighteningly apt, both Ann's situation and almost her own. She looked at Ann, who was staring at Carl, her face unreadable...

"I'll do it."

* * *

><p>"I thought Maureen McKenzie was doing this picture?"<p>

"Ehh, Maureen's old news." Carl remarked. "Ann Darrow – now there's a name that's gonna look swell in lights! Oh God." He suddenly added as they turned the corner. Grabbing his niece by the arm, he steered her away from where three cops were stood talking.

"Don't look, don't look, don't draw any attention.."

"Why?" Cora asked, as her uncle nervously pulled his collar up.

"Nothing, nothing..." He herded her along the sidewalk, her suitcase knocking on her legs.

"Carl..." Cora said, slowly realising. "What have you done?"

"I haven't done anything!" He protested, casting a look over one shoulder.

"Carl!"

"Okay!" They stopped in a doorway. "You know I went for a meeting with my backers..."

"Yeah..."

"Well it didn't exactly..." Carl gestured vaguely. "It didn't exactly go to plan."

"What." She deadpanned.

Carl whined in annoyance. "Okay in short, we're kind of doing this movie...not entirely legally."

"Carl!" Cora cried. "Are you crazy?"

"It'll be fine-"

"In what UNIVERSE," Cora hissed, "Would it be 'fine'? And now you've dragged poor Ann into this too?"

"Look, you don't understand." Carl continued quickly. "This is going to be my masterpiece, this is going to make me rich beyond all imagination, this movie is going to change _everything_."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Trust me!" He snapped. "Trust me, Corinne-"

"_Cora!"_

"Cora, whatever!" He threw up his hands. "Cora. Trust me and I'll make it worth your trouble. Trust me and I'll make you rich."

Cora stared at him for a moment and marvelled at how someone who was so closely related to her reliable dependable father could be so incredibly stupid.

"You're unbelievable." She told him. "But it seems I have no choice in the matter."

He hailed a cab and they climbed in. "I sure hope you don't get sea sick." He remarked as they sped off into the night.


	5. The Sky and the Sea

5

The next hour was a blur. After collecting Ann and her luggage from a tiny apartment, they arrived at the New York docks well after night fall. Cora climbed out of the taxi, trying to follow a mile-a-minute Carl through the throng. Her uncle was in his element, still reeling off his plans to a rather awed Ann faster than any of them could think.

The docks were not unfamiliar territory to Cora. Boats and ships draw curious children to them like moths to a lamp and during her childhood, she, Alex and the rest of their gang had spent countless afternoons playing war or pirates or explorers amongst the hustle and bustle, being yelled at and scolded by the sailors whenever they had gotten in the way (which had been frequently) and every day venturing nearer and nearer to the dockside, daring any challenger to their courage not to fall into the water.

She had never been here after dark though; the encroaching evenings of the past would have been their signal to flee home, crowing victoriously and the bundle through their respective front doors, dirty and exhausted from the day. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't been here since she was fifteen years old.

Suddenly she became aware of where Carl was leading them. Past the grand smart ships she had expected and along the wharf to...Cora wrinkled her nose in disdain. That hunk of rust, barely held together by the various stains on the hull...that couldn't be the movie ship! She cast a look at Ann, who didn't return it, still gazing about with wide-eyed fear.

Quickening her pace, Cora followed her uncle to where he was stood talking to a tall rough looking sailor. The pair were having some discussion, Carl becoming steadily more agitated whilst the sailor remained annoyingly passive. His English was good, but the slight accent on his words betrayed he was German, the slightest trace of a 'v' on the w's. This made Cora hesitate slightly. Her father had fought in the Great War and to the day he died had held strong opinions about the German people. Warily she tried to ignore this memory and joined Carl.

"Can we talk about this later?" He was muttering obstinately to the German. "Can't you see we're in the company of a VIP guest?"

"Who's that?" Cora asked, as the sailor turned his attention to Ann.

Carl turned away and herded her towards the edge of the dock. "The captain, nobody. Listen, I want you to get on board okay?"

"Why are you so twitchy?" Cora sneered.

"Just do it will you?"

"What about Cinderella over there." Cora nodded towards Ann who was talking to the captain with a confused look on her face.

Carl glanced over in alarm. "I'll deal with this. Just get on board." He gave her a none too gentle shove towards the gangway and turned away. He beckoned to Preston who scurried over and cut into Ann's conversation.

With a disgruntled sigh, Cora shook her head and obliged, walking reluctantly up the gangway. Before she reached the desk, she glanced back to see Carl pull a cheque book from his jacket.

* * *

><p>The ship, <em>The Venture<em>, as she was quickly informed, was no grander inside than out. The corridors were narrow and dark, and an odd smell of drains seemed to linger everywhere you went. Cora was pointed to her cramped cabin by Preston, who no sooner dashed off again, in a constant harassed state. It was clearly almost time to leave and the whole ship was abuzz with activity. She tried to continue reading, but after only a few lines and the incessant noise all around, it was clear this was a futile effort and she abandoned the tiny room to explore.

Some habits children never grow out of.

The maze of hallways seemed suffocating and Cora suddenly longed to see the sky. She walked more briskly and was just wondering whether she should give up and head back the longer way she had come in when she rounded a corner and collided with a young sailor. He had been jogging down the hallway, clearly in a hurry and the two caught each other's shoulders, knocking Cora back.

"Hey!"

The boy scowled at her, but said nothing, his eyes alarmingly intense from under his sailor's cap.

"Watch where you're going!" Cora snapped, feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

He still didn't reply.

"What?" She shrugged sarcastically. "Cat got your tongue? What is it?" The continued non-response and itchy embarrassment eventually got the better of her and she growled in annoyance. "Fine. Fine. Have it your way." She shoved past him again and after a few steps sensed that he had also continued on his way. She shook her head to herself. Strange. Too strange.

"Cora? Cora Denham, is that you?"

Still seething, she turned to see a plump older gentleman walking along the corridor. "Herb!" She called in greeting, her spirits lifting rapidly. "Don't tell me Carl's dragged you into another of his crazy schemes."

Herb, a camera man and long time associate of her uncle, chuckled. Cora had met Herb on her previous trip with Carl and knew he had a daughter of his own around her age. "What can I say," he said. "Working with your uncle...it's never dull!" He glanced over her shoulder in the direction the boy had gone. "Running into trouble already?"

She laughed coldly. "Trouble? Me? Herbert, don't you know me at all?"

"I almost didn't recognise you." He admitted. "Last time I saw you, you were barely this high. And now look at you, grown into quite the young lady."

Cora rolled her eyes. "Please, don't. I-" She was cut off by thundering footsteps racing down the next hallway. Confused, she and Herb looked around to see a dark haired man go racing past, his coat haphazardly slung over his shoulder. Seconds later, he must have turned, as he went haring back the other way.

Cora glanced back at an equally bemused herb. "Was...was that Jack Driscoll?"

And then they were away. With Herb's help, Cora finally made her way to the deck to watch New York slip by, a mass of light and action. The distant wail of police sirens seemed to fade as they distanced themselves from the once familiar docks.

Leaning on the railing, she breathed in the smell of the air and the ocean. The feeling of freedom was stifled slightly by the feeling of being trapped on this tub, being rapidly pulled away from everything she knew, everything that was safe. Neither belonging in one place, or the other.

More and more frequently however, she had not felt safe in her mother's presence. Lansbury, the housekeeper had been her ally, once, bandaging scraped knees and hiding the worst of the evidence of her tomboyish life. But now the ability to do that was slipping away, like the ship from the port.

And there was nothing Cora could do about it.

"I keep telling you, Jack," The familiar voice of her uncle pulled Cora's attention to the end of the ship. Carl was standing victoriously besides a slumped, defeated figure of the writer Jack Driscoll. "There's no money in theatre! You're much better off sticking with film."

Curiously, she took a step towards them, straining her ears to hear Jack's mumbled response

"...I love the theatre."

Carl smirked, shaking his head. "No you don't. If you really loved it? You woulda jumped."


	6. Another Day

**6**

Cora woke the next morning to the sound of the engines and the ocean. She lay still for a moment, unsure of where she was. Then it all came back to her in a rush. Twenty four hours ago, she had been eating breakfast, blissfully unaware that her mother was on the edge of throwing her life into turmoil. Last night the lull of the waves had eased her into a troubled sleep. She kept dreaming that she was drowning.

Trying to put the nightmare from her mind, she got up and looked out of the tiny porthole that graced the wall of her cabin. There was the ocean, a vast stretch of deep, darkest blue, constantly in motion. And then it met the sky, streaked pink and gold with the last traces of the dawn. There was no sign of land, and from the placement of the sunrise, Cora could only guess that they were heading south. The every present hum of the engines continued, and Cora knew full well that there was no chance she could get back to sleep now. With a sigh, she turned back to her open suitcase and began to get dressed.

Retracing the steps she had taken last night, she found her way to the deck with a far greater ease than she had before. The sun was hidden amongst a pale, cloudy morning and the wind blew her hair this way and that. None of the film crew were to be seen just yet, but she wasn't alone – a few sailors were around, working and talking to each other. Their presence made Cora somewhat nervous. Her mother had frequently denounced the manners and habits of sailors and although Cora made a concerted effort to disregard anything her mother said, the nagging doubt in her head would not go away.

She casually glanced down the side of the ship, gripping the rusty railing. She knew she was being silly, and she knew that she was being largely ignored by any passing crew, nothing more than a passenger, a nuisance. _They never used to bother you before,_ she told herself. _You never had any bother when you went to the docks._

_Yes,_ an annoying little voice in her head agreed, _but you were only a kid then. You're not a little kid anymore._

"Shut up." She muttered under her breath, and turned to go back up the deck. She'd barely taken two steps however when she spotted the sailor she'd collided with the previous evening. Suppressing a groan, she quickly spun on her heel, unwilling to go through another confrontation with him.

But then of course, running straight in the opposite direction would be indiscrete-

Indiscrete! Since when had she cared about being indiscrete?!

Instead she lingered a while at the railing, pretending to be completely oblivious of the boy's presence. Equally pretending that she wasn't eavesdropping on the conversation he was having with an older dark skinned sailor.

"You don't want to be on this ship for the rest of your life." The older man was saying.

"Yes I do!" The boy protested.

"No, you don't, Jimmy! You wanna get yourself educated. Give yourself some options. Take this serious-!"

"I do, Mr. Hayes, I do! Look, I've been readin'."

Curiosity piqued, Cora turned slightly, acting like she was staring at the horizon instead. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the boy, Jimmy, Hayes had called him, pull a battered looking book from his back pocket and pass it over. From this distance, Cora couldn't make out the title, but Hayes stared at the book suspiciously.

"Where did you get this?" He asked

Jimmy immediately looked shifty. "I borrowed it..." he mumbled vaguely, before quickly adding. "On long term loan." He changed tack and flipped the book over in Hayes' hands. "Look at this." He pointed insistently. "_Adventures on a Tramp Steamer_. See - just like us." The look on his face was one desperate for approval.

Hayes responded with a reluctant smile and shoved the book back into the boy's hands. "Get back to work." He replied warmly, and walked away.

Another gust of wind mussed Cora's hair and she was still trying to haphazardly scoop it back behind her ears when Jimmy walked past. Accidentally catching his eye, Cora said nothing, not wanting to repeat the awkwardness of the day before.

Thankfully Jimmy remained equally silent and did not stop.

* * *

><p>"You can't stay in here all day."<p>

Suppressing a groan, Cora closed her book and looked up. "Is that so?"

Carl stood awkwardly in the doorway. "Yep. Come on, come get some breakfast. Circulate. Socialise."

Cora raised her eyebrows. "Why?" She snapped.

"Because...you're a Denham." Carl replied. "You represent me and you're coming across as a mute. Come on," He added after no response. "Come on. Come with me."

He vanished from the door way with a vague wave of his hand, leaving the door of the cabin swinging on its hinges. Somehow he had known that leaving that door open would drive her crazy. Sighing, Cora flung her book down, pulled a cardigan on and headed out, tripping a little as the floor dipped with the shifting waves beneath them. Regaining her balance, she closed the door in time to see Ann stepping out of her own cabin, dressed in a stunning yellow chiffon dress. Immediately Cora was aware of the frayed cuffs and scuffed shoes of her own ensemble.

"Good morning Miss Denham." The actress called.

Cora shook her head and tried be patient. "Cora, please call me Cora."

Ann smiled."Very well. On one condition."

"Name it."

"You call me Ann."

Ann's friendliness was infectious and Cora could not help but smile back. "Fine. Deal. Going to breakfast?"

Ann nodded. "We start filming today. I want to start off on the right foot." She exhaled quickly. "Can I tell you something, Cora?"

Cora started, surprised. "Um, sure."

"I'm a little nervous."

"About filming? Ann, they're gonna love you!" Who wouldn't, she added silently.

"No! Well, a little." Ann admitted. "I'm too used to the stage, I think." She smiled anxiously. "It's Jack Driscoll."

Cora had a flashback to the man sprawled resignedly on deck the previous night. Oh right. Driscoll was still on board. "You're kind of a fan, huh?"

"I've read everything he's ever written," It came out in a breathless rush, almost rehearsed in its delivery. They eventually reached the kitchens, which worryingly held a similar smell of drains as the cabins, and Ann excused herself for a moment, so she could psych herself up for entering the same room as the famous Jack Driscoll.

Cora entered the room to little fanfare, poured herself a cup of suspiciously thick coffee and sat down at the battered old table besides Herb who greeted her with a smile and a nod. So much for Carl's insistence that she socialise. He had barely looked up as she walked in. A few sailors still lingered finishing breakfast, and the one eyes cook in the corner was attempting to stir the remains of the porridge and wet shave a sailor at the same time.

"You're the sound recordist," Carl was insisting to another member of the film crew. "Make it work."

There was a scuffling sound and Ann finally appeared in the doorway. Compared to his lack of recognition towards his own niece however, Carl couldn't be happier to see the pretty actress. "Come on in!" He called with his most charming smile "Let me introduce you to the crew! This is Herb, our cameraman..."

Cora sampled the coffee and pulled a face. God. It was worse than anything she'd had on land. But it was strong, however. Very strong, so she gritted her teeth and took another sip.

"Ann," Carl was saying, "I don't believe you've met-"

Ann was staring rapturously at the sound recordist. "That's alright Mr. Denham," she replied faintly "I know who this is."

Cora glanced in confusion from Ann to Herb, who merely shrugged.

Ann continued faintly, still staring at the nervous crew member "Thrilled to meet you. It's an honour to be part of this."

The man smiled, bewildered, but pleased. "Gee, thanks!"

"Actually, I am quite familiar withyour work."

Okay, maybe Ann was a bigger technical buff then Cora had previously assumed. And that was coming from the woman who had apparently never worked movies.

She stirred the thick dark liquid she was suffering through and looked around hopefully for any sugar. The famous Driscoll wandered in at that point, looking a little worse for wear and immediately was drawn to the same coffee pot.

"I'm sure you've heard this before Mr Driscoll, if you don't mind me saying...you don't look at all like your photograph!"

The mention of the playwrights name sparked a series of reactions across the room. Driscoll – the real Driscoll anyway – turned and frowned in confusion at the actress, Herb's eyes lit up with embarrassed amusement, Mike, the sound recordists, face dropped and Carl frantically attempted to head Ann off before she said anything else.

An amused smirk on his face, Jack began to walk over to the table, but Ann was still in full flow.

"I was afraid you might be one of those self obsessed literary types." She was saying. "You know, the tweedy twerp with his nose in a book and his head up his-"

_Snap._

Cora watched, cringing on Ann's behalf as the actress slowly turned and looked, mortified, into the face of the real Jack Driscoll.

"It's nice to meet you too, Miss Darrow."

It was then that Cora excused herself, knocking back the last few dregs of the coffee, grimacing and fleeing the awkwardness that had filled the room. She could never stand such circumstances and much preferred to get out of them by any means possible.

So much for being discrete...

She decided to blame Carl completely for making her 'socialise' and the idea of heading back to her cabin for the rest of the day was looking more and more tempting by the second. Still trying to keep her balance on the uneven floor, she made her way back through the labyrinth of hallways, passing an open cabin door on her way. Something about the open door made her stop and glance inside.

It was the usual cupboard-like cabin, except that the walls were almost unrecognisably covered in posters and professional headshots of the actor Bruce Baxter. And seriously, the walls were _covered._

"Someone's a fan." She commented, staring around the walls. _Bruce Baxter in – Dame Tamer! Bruce Baxter's Tribal Brides of the Amazon!_

"You could say that."

She jumped, recognising the voice and cursed not looking more carefully as to the occupant of the room. Jimmy. Again.

Blushing furiously, she turned away, but he wasn't looking, too busy vandalising each and every poster with a variety of additions – moustaches, blacked teeth and thick dark eyebrows.

"Who's cabin is this?" She asked.

"Mr Baxter's." He replied, studiously adding a pair of devil horns to one of the faces.

"You- you're kidding, right?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Bruce Baxter's? Bruce Baxter has his own posters up in his cabin. Wow. You know they say a picture's worth a thousand words and this guy has got...one, two, three..."

"He's an ass." Jimmy announced succinctly. "He's been ordering the crew around like slaves."

"Do they listen?" Cora asked, stepping back to admire the added features to the nearest poster.

Jimmy stopped what he was doing and smirked. "What do you think?"

"Fair enough. I mean I still haven't met the guy but from what I've heard, he sounds...he sounds like..."

"An ass?"

Cora nodded. "Yeah, that about sums it up. Put some glasses on him." She added and he obliged. "Where did you get that anyway?"

Jimmy glanced down at the smart looking pen in his hand. "I, uh. I borrowed it."

Liar. She decided not to question him as he put the finishing touches to the final poster, a hastily scribbled pair of round spectacles, not unlike the ones that graced Preston's face on a daily basis.

Suddenly nearing footsteps could be heard outside.

"Shit..." Cora whispered. "He's coming!"

Jimmy turned to her, eyes shining with mirth. "You go left, I'll go right, meet back on deck in five minutes?"

"Got it." She replied with a nod.

"I'm Jimmy, by the way." He said as they reached the door.

"I know." She smiled. "I'm Cora."


	7. No Distraction

**7.**

"That," she began, through helpless mirth. "Was excellent!"

Jimmy shrugged, smiling. "'Just glad I could get one over on him. He's an idiot."

She glanced back inside. Unpredictably, there was no sign of the angered actor. "I wonder where he is."

"Probably wondering if he looks better with or without a moustache." Jimmy quipped and the two dissolved into laughter once more, leaning on the chipped railing.

At a guess she would have put him at one, maybe two years older than she. And the incident with the posters had proved there was another side to him, a side that betrayed how young he really was. She couldn't help but wonder, had he lived in the city all his life whether he would have been quickly recruited into Alex's gang. He wasn't so intimidating when he laughed. His face lit up and his gaze seemed far less cutting.

"Look," she began as their chuckles subsided. "I'm sorry for how I spoke to you last night. I was no better than Baxter and it wasn't your fault."

"It's okay." Jimmy replied casually.

She shook her head "No it's not. I was stressed out and grumpy and I know, that's no excuse. I don't know what you must think of us stuffy city folk..."

"For what it's worth, I don't think you're as bad as him." Jimmy illustrated the 'him' by jerking his head back in the direction of Bruce's cabin. "In fact, after what happened back there...I guess you're all right." He started and looked round as his name was called from the other end of the ship. "I better go."

Cora nodded, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "Yeah, well." She muttered "I won't keep you. I'd better go track down Carl."

The two went their separate ways and Cora hurried back down the hallway to her cabin, pausing only to look in on Ann. The actress was still dressed in the gorgeous yellow dress from earlier, but sat at the small table in her cabin with her head in her hands.

"Ann? Are you alright?"

"Cora, hi." Ann replied absently, smiling weakly. "I was wondering where you'd got to." She paused and looked sheepish. "I'm guessing you saw that ridiculous display..."

"Ann!" Cora sighed and stepped fully into the room, sitting beside Ann on the narrow bed. "It's no big deal. Okay, so you mixed up some faces and names, who cares?"

"I care! And I'm sure Mr Driscoll-"

"Will have forgotten all about it this time tomorrow!" Cora tried, but to no avail.

Ann shook her head and continued "I'm so embarrassed...Every time I see him I'll just remember me, babbling like an idiot..."

Cora tried not to groan in annoyance. Did Ann _hero worship_ this guy or something? After another ten minutes of sympathy, encouragements and oaths that 'it was not a big deal, I promise', Cora escaped, leaving poor Ann only marginally less suicidal than before.

Back in her own cabin, she started to run a comb through her hair. Despite not sharing her mother's obsession with makeup and hair styles, the sea air was starting to blow her hair into tight tangles and Cora knew that if she didn't act fast, she would be left with unbreakable knots.

When she was about thirteen, Alex's gang had launched a full scale assault on one end of the docks. The spot had been invaded, in their eyes, and unjustly taken over by a straggly pack dubbed 'The Riversiders', who roamed the streets a few miles up the Hudson. In Alex's eyes however, the docks were his and his mob's, every square inch of it, and the fifteen year old was determined to take it back by force. What ensued was an all out war, starting at noon when they had descended on the Riversider's den armed with sticks, stones, and the rival gang had been finally driven out, followed by mocking screeches and the last few missiles.

Her mother had ripped the brush through her hair, again and again, taking out large strands from the root and then Cora had been sent to bed in disgrace, her scalp tender pink and burning with pain.

She had refused to cry that day. Even with the burning pain on the top of her head, she resolutely decided that it had been worth it. The Riversiders had been driven out and their gang ruled once again.

And if nothing else, she was 'alright'. That had to be a good thing. To her all immediate disgust with herself, she giggled.

* * *

><p>"Seen our mutual friend Mr Baxter recently?" She asked quietly. Jack Driscoll had not made a reappearance after the incident at breakfast and strangely, neither had the actor.<p>

Cora was back on deck in the fresh air, finding that the smell that lingered in the cabins only bearable for short blocks of time. Besides, she found she liked being out in the open. After growing up in the city, the vast space out at sea was refreshing and she couldn't help but wonder if the sailors found the ports claustrophobic and overcrowded.

She hadn't been _looking _for Jimmy, but she reasoned that on a ship the size of the Venture, she was bound to run into everyone sooner or later. She told herself that it was reasonable anyway.

He smirked at the memory. "Not yet. Probably still admiring my handiwork."

"Truly a work of art!" She announced in an overly dramatic tone.

Their joking was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of the first mate "Jimmy, head down to the hold and see if Mr Driscoll's feelin' any better."

"Will do, Mr Hayes." Jimmy nodded and ran off obediently.

The image of a moustachioed Baxter still in her mind's eye, Cora kept her sight on the far off horizon, until a voice pulled her suddenly from her day dream.

"Miss Denham."

She turned from the skyline to see Hayes, standing nearby.

"Do you have a moment?"

She nodded. "Of course, what's the matter?"

"I need to talk to you about your friendship with Jimmy."

She frowned. "My friendship? My Hayes, we've barely exchanged ten words, I wouldn't call it a friendship."

"It's best it stays that way. If I were you, I'd stay away from him."

Concern suddenly crept in, washing all traces of her previous good mood away "Why? Is he dangerous?"

Hayes shook his head. "Wouldn't hurt a fly. But he's not like other kids his age. I've known him for four years; I still don't know where he came from." He looked grim. "He won't tell me."

Cora found herself gripping the railing behind her tightly "I'm not sure I understand."

"I'm just saying, he don't need no distractions. This is just another job."

She laughed shortly and humourlessly. "I have no intention of 'distracting' anyone, Mr Hayes."

"With all respect Miss, you know what I mean. Stay away from him."

"Fine." She replied stiffly "If you're so very concerned, I'll ignore him completely from now on." She was being silly, she knew it, but Hayes orders irritated her.

Instead of looking annoyed by her theatrics however, he just replied, "Good" and left.

She exhaled sharply, thrown by the finality of his reaction, and returned to her cabin. At least the characters in her novels acted the way people should...

* * *

><p><em>"S...K...U...L...L...Island..."<em>

* * *

><p>"Would you like me to do something with your hair?"<p>

Cora frowned in sudden confusion, hoping Ann was joking. "Um..."

The actress smiled. She was stood at the small chipped mirror in her cabin applying make up for the scene Carl had lined up for that afternoon. Cora had rejoined her a few hours later and the two had swapped idle chit chat. Perched on the tiny bed, she had been tempted to tell Ann about her encounter with the first mate, but she was struggling to bring it up without sounding like a tattle tale.

"No?" Ann added teasingly.

"Thanks, but...It's not exactly a priority..." Cora began, not wishing to offend her closest ally on board, but Ann laughed lightly.

"I understand!" She placed a bobby pin and reached for a powder compact. "I know some girls have more on their minds than dresses and make up."

"I guess I should though." Cora shrugged "I mean, if I want to get married..." She paused and pulled a face.

"And who says you want to get married?" Ann came and sat beside her, frowning in concern.

"My mother." Cora replied glumly. "She's obsessed with marrying me off to someone rich and high class."

"And you don't care for it?"

"Well I-" Cora sighed in frustration. "I want to get married, one day, of course I do. I mean if I meet some man and fall in love with him, then sure, we'll get married why not. It's just...I don't know, I want to do something with my life first. See a few places, meet a few people."

Ann nodded understandingly "Of course you do. I mean how old are you? Eighteen? I think you've got plenty of time before we can start calling you an old maid!"

"The thing is girls like me aren't supposed to want that sort of thing." Cora picked up one of Ann's scarves and began idly pulling the silky material through her fingers. "We're supposed to sit and look pretty and smile in the right places. And that's okay for some people but it's not okay for me!" She paused before adding; "Ever since my sister got engaged, she's gotten worse. It's like she's been encouraged, it's like ... 'one down, one to go!'...It's just nice to get away from her nagging for a few days."

"Can I suggest something?"Ann asked tentatively.

"Fire away."

"Talk to her. No accusations, no arguments. Like the two grown, adult women you are and maybe you can make her see things from your point of view."

"I've tried..." Cora stopped. "You're right. I can be kind of a brat when things don't go my way."

"Well if that's the case, I havent' seen that at all." "Come on, otherwise your uncle will be sending out a search party."

"You go, I'll follow a little later, if that's okay." Cora replied and then called out; "Ann?"

The actress paused in the doorway "Yes Cora?"

"...Thanks."

* * *

><p>It was ambling along the deck later on to find Ann and company when a sudden splash caught Cora's attention. Curious she glanced over the railing and almost double took at four, five sleek grey creatures jostling and jumping in the water. She was so taken aback, she found herself speaking aloud as she ran to the edge.<p>

"Dolphins! Actual dolphins!"

Someone behind her laughed and she spun round in surprise to see that it was Jimmy again.

"Those things? We get them all time, they ride the waves made by the ship." He stepped up and leant over the railing beside her.

"I've never seen them this close!" Cora confessed, trying to avoid eye contact with the young sailor. She turned her attention back to the playful creatures "Not that I can remember anyway. Last time I was on a boat-"

"Ship." Jimmy corrected her.

"Whatever. I must've been about thirteen or fourteen."She looked at Jimmy who was looking at her and smiling. "What? What's so funny?"

Jimmy shook his head. "Nothing." He replied. "It's just that...you look different when you smile."

"I..." Cora floundered for a response, until she realised Carl was calling for her from the other end of the ship. "I need to go."

"Are you okay?"

"Sure, sure. It's...look..." Hayes' warning still rang in her ears. "I don't think us talking like this is a good idea." She shrugged and started edging away. "I mean after all...it's just another job, right?"

Jimmy nodded. "Yeah. That's it." And then, as if he'd read her mind; "You seen Mr Hayes anywhere?"

She shook her head. "No, why?"

He suddenly looked serious "I need to talk to him."

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. Just part of the job. Miss Denham." He nodded curtly and walked off down the deck.


	8. The Truth

"All right everyone, from the top!" Carl was in his element, stood proudly behind the camera and ordering everyone else around. Bruce and Ann were in their places, Ann dressed to the nines and Bruce looking sharp too, a captain's hat was set at a jaunty angle atop his flawless hair.

"And..._action!"_

"I think this is awfully exciting!" Ann gushed, as Bruce joined her at the railings. "I've never been on a ship before."

"I've never been on one with a woman before." He grumbled in reply, posing and looking suitably brooding.

Ann glanced at him, chin down, lashes fluttering, coy and beautiful. "I guess you don't think much of women on ships, do you?"

"No, they're a nuisance..."

Curiosity had gotten the better of Cora, and she stood quietly behind the film crew, taking in everything before her. The actors continued their stream of banter, and Mike was diligently attempting to capture every scrap of dialogue. Herb was on hand to assist with camera, and Jack Driscoll had actually made an appearance, leaning against a nearby wall and looking wryly amused at the circus before him.

Carl had requested that the Venture's crew carry on their duties as normal – _background activity_ was how he'd described it, and they'd obliged. Cora suspected however, that if Carl had requested Mary-Celeste-esque levels of abandonment, he'd have been largely ignored and business would have continued as per usual. Looking past the actors, Cora saw the now familiar figures of Jimmy and first mate Hayes, as the former hurried over to his mentor. Hayes had been openly watching the actors, leaning on one of the lifeboats with a similar level of curiosity as Cora.

She frowned slightly. Something was wrong. Even to an outsider, Jimmy looked agitated, but Hayes seemed relaxed up until something Jimmy said. Then the man started, turned, gave his full attention to whatever news the young man was relaying.

Hayes was listening to whatever Jimmy was saying with a deep frown, before suddenly shooting the film crew a look that almost looked frightened. Cora quickly looked away but realised it wasn't the whole crew that Hayes had been looking at – just Carl.

A quick glance at her uncle assured her that he'd seen it happen too.

"Cut!" Carl yelled suddenly, distracted. "Great! Bruce, wonderful performance..."

She kept watching as the cast and crew split for a break. The group that now huddled around Hayes and Jimmy was rapidly growing, the boy talking animatedly, strongly insisting whatever point he was making.

"What's going on?" She whispered to Carl, as he made a great show of camera adjustments.

"What?" He replied absently.

She nodded the direction. "The crew. Carl, that doesn't look good at all."

He granted her a humouring glace along the deck and shrugged, his exaggeration covering up his emerging nervousness. "Eh, sailors. Superstitious bastards the lot of 'em. What can ya do?" He cast one last look behind him. "We'll talk later." He added. "Now scram, will ya, you are distracting the _artistes_."

"Carl-"

"It'll be_ fine_, trust me!"

Not at all reassured in the slightest, Cora turned and walked away, picking nervously at her thumbnail. She wasn't surprised however when Jimmy himself appeared, quickly falling into step with her.

"How much do you know about Singapore?" He asked.

"Not much." She replied nonchalantly, trying to figure out where he was going with this bizarre topic choice.

"'Cause if you did," He halted at the corner, standing_ just_ so she couldn't pass by freely. "You'd start to wonder about the directions we've been taking."

"Is that so?" She replied idly.

"Yeah."

She nodded back over his shoulder and tried to divert the subject "Is that what you were all in such a tizzy about?"

He glanced back. "Back there?" He seemed surprised that she bought it up.

"Yeah. I was up on the, uh..." She gestured vaguely in the appropriate direction. "I could see you. So. What's the matter, exactly?"

"As I said, a little something you might want to ask your uncle about."

An abrupt, irritated sound escaped her throat "Okay, I've just about had - My uncle is a good man, alright?" Boldly, she pushed past him and continued on her way, stumbling a little from the effort it had taken. He was deceptively solid for a young man of his build.

"'You sure about that?" He asked, with an edge of smugness that riled Cora beyond words.

"Even if I wasn't!" She spun round and glared at him. "Even if I _wasn't_, I really don't think it's any of your business - do you?"

He didn't reply for a moment, but the continued stare made Cora feel deeply scrutinised. Finally, with a short sigh of frustration, she turned to go but was halted again when he spoke;

"Mess room." He said in a low voice "Tomorrow night, nine o'clock."

She paused, unwilling to turn around again. "What are you talking about?"

"Meet me there."

She clenched her fists. "Why?"

"You might learn a thing or two." He replied airily.

She nodded and laughed sardonically. "Yeah, you know I think I'm okay."

"Tomorrow. Nine o'clock. Come alone." He reminded as she left.

"I heard you the first time!" She snapped.

* * *

><p>It was a beautiful evening. The setting sun bathed the Venture in a soft gold light, the clouds above shadowed into muted greys and purples. The light that filtered through reflected off the water's surface like a thousand mirror shards. Carl hadn't been able to resist the picturesque conditions, and had rallied everyone to create a scene from this beautiful backdrop.<p>

Ann, dressed in a glittering beaded gown and jewels, would run to the railing in tears (prettily distressed tears, of course), would lean on them, sigh and fret, look heartbroken. Carl_ loved_ it, wordlessly encouraging Ann from behind the camera. It was all a little melodramatic and after a couple of takes, Cora turned her attention away from the scene.

The ship was still abuzz with activity. A few sailors were loitering and watching proceedings. They couldn't be blamed at all, Ann was looking even more stunning than usual. Others were running whatever necessary jobs were needed and at the other end of the ship, Jimmy was sat in reading in the dying light.

That book again. She hadn't initially had the boy down as a reader, and his brow was furrowed in concentration. She decided that he looked different when he didn't know anyone was watching him, slightly off his guard and with none of the silent, stern facing that he usually carried with him. He had a fierce assertiveness to him sometimes; she'd seen that in his conference with the other sailors. He knew something. Something she didn't, about Carl, about this whole voyage.

And yet...she couldn't help but speculate about _him_. 'Jimmy', short for James, or so she imagined, and so far no trace of a last name. Like she wondered if he'd been a city boy, might have fitted in well in Alex's gang. Did he have a family somewhere, or had circumstance pushed him to this life? Had that in turn warped his social graces (the whole staring thing was just a little unnerving)? The final question was so utterly _her mother,_ that Cora surprised even herself.

She felt, deep down, like she should know something. Like there was an element to the whole thing, connected to him that she'd forgotten. She couldn't quite remember, but she knew it was important, and if she could only remember, then she'd feel more in control of her situation. That was important.

She could find out tomorrow, if she wanted...

"He's a good looking boy."

She jumped. Ann had crept up without her hearing, still slightly damp eyed and wobbly voiced from the scene. When Cora turned she realised that the actress had followed her line of sight.

"Hm? Who?" Cora blustered, trying to play for time to get her brain in gear, thrown by the interruption.

"You know very well 'who'." Ann replied with a knowing smile, collecting her wrap from where it had been draped, and sauntering off, leaving Cora hot with embarrassment.

The light was nearly gone. Jimmy closed the book and walked away.

* * *

><p>Nine pm edged nearer and nearer, and all that day Cora had been determined not to go, to prove a point. Really she didn't need to <em>know <em> anything, Carl wouldn't allow any harm to come to her, that wasn't how these shoots worked, it was just a load of superstitious idiots getting all worked up abut...about...something. It didn't matter, Cora decided. That was why she wasn't going in for all this cloak and dagger nonsense.

She'd brushed out her hair for the night, removed her watch and was halfway through making all preparations for bed. She was heading back to her room, after a short chat with Ann about the days shooting. She'd also borrowed Ann's copy of 'Isolation', a play of Driscoll's that Ann had raved about, for a little evening reading. And she _had _to go back past the mess room, it was just how the hallways were laid out, it wasn't intentional whatsoever, so-

Suddenly a hand shot out from the shadows and snatched her wrist, uncomfortably tight. She almost squeaked in alarm, but managed to bite it back at the last moment. Jimmy!

"So you do wanna know the truth?" He demanded, that familiar intensity ablaze in his eyes.

Feeling pinned down by his very gaze alone, Cora nodded dumbly.

So much for not going.

"Then stay here, shut up, and listen."

Feeling rather sleuth-like, lurking in the shadowy corner, Cora followed Jimmy's instructions and watched the boy, silhouetted against the light leaking from the door of the mess. Inside she could already hear her uncle and Preston talking, planning the next few days' schedule, but they were suddenly interrupted.

"If someone were to tell you this ship is headed for Singapore," She knew those low tones. Hayes. "What would you say?"

"I would say they was full of it, Mr Hayes." It took Cora a moment, but she managed to link the London accent to Lumpy, the dubious chef. "We turned South-West last night."

The 'directions' Jimmy had hinted at. That must have been it!

Then Cora heard her uncle speak up; "Gentlemen please, we're not looking for trouble..."

This was when Jimmy chose to make his entrance. It was all rather dramatic, Cora thought. She watched him slip through the door, with one last sharp look at her, and agree -

"No. You're looking for something else."

A pause. And then, quietly; "Yes we are." She heard the floor creak as her uncle turned "We're gonna find _Skull Island_!" he announced, the name alone enough to send a discomforting jolt down Cora's spine. "We're gonna find it, film it and show it to the world. For twenty five cents you get to see the last blank space on the map."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." Lump muttered ominously. Another tense pause followed and crouched in the shadows, Cora became horribly aware of her own heart thumping in her ears. Skull Island. Skull. Island. She'd read enough stories to know that a name like that was no good.

To her surprise, it was timid Preston who asked the burning question. "What do you mean?"

If her uncle was quite the story teller, Hayes and Lumpy were something else. In grim, foreboding tones they told of their encounter with a mysterious castaway, found floating in the ocean, who had spoken of a cursed island and the horrific monster that lurked behind the wall. The film crew were drawn into a tense silence and outside the door, Cora tried to keep quiet, in spite of the flickering fear in her throat.

Of course, Carl was quick to laugh at their claims – "A lion or a tiger...A man-eater, that's how all these stories start!"

"What else did he say?" Preston asked, undeterred by Carl's mockery.

Lumpy concluded the tale. "Nothing. We found 'im the next morning, he'd stuck a knife through his heart."

Cora clapped a hand silently over her mouth. Awful. Awful, awful.

"Sorry fellas, you'll have to do better than that!" Carl declared, breaking the tension in his usual blasé style. There was the sound of rustling papers and activity, and Cora quickly skirted out of the way of the door, anticipating his exit. "Monsters belong in B-movies!" He proclaimed smugly, heading for the door.

How could he be so _callous_, she wondered.

And he'd _lied. _He'd lied to her, he'd lied to Ann and who knew who else. _Singapore_, he'd said. Singapore had never been his intention...

"If you find this place," Hayes halted the exiting men with a word. "If you go ashore with your _friends_ and your _cameras_ - you won't come back. Just so long as you understand that." He added, his words loaded with threat. From her hiding place, Cora could see Carl and Preston, rooted to the spot with alarm.

Then, the spell was broken. The two hurried away and Cora listened as Lumpy and Hayes bid each other goodnight, the sound of their voices receding into the distance.

It was then, and only then, that Jimmy stepped back outside. He turned to her, a knowing look in his eyes. "Well." He began.

She didn't reply, she barely trusted herself to.

The humour faded. "What?" He asked, bluntly.

She shrugged clumsily, trying to appear calm "You made your point. Proved me wrong." She sniffed, crossing her arms tight. She was scared, but she would not cry, not here, not in front of this...infuriating, stubborn, rude, _nobody..._

He frowned. "Cora, I-"

"Happy now?" She cut in, her voice cracking a little before she quickly hurried away.


	9. The Calm

**Chapter Nine.**

Cora managed to spend the next couple of days sleeping late and keeping human interaction to a minimum. Part of her wanted to confront Carl, demand to know what was going on and hopefully wipe the smirk off his face.

In part, she was afraid of the answer she might get.

She knew that Ann had noticed her change in behaviour, but had evaded any inquiries with her usual shtick of one word answers and grumpy looks. It was like being back in New York all over again.

Jack Driscoll also remained below deck, industriously typing away at the script, and as soon as scenes were written, they were shot. Thankfully this kept both Ann and Herb busy, as the concerned glances and whispered worries were starting to get on Cora's nerves.

Preston had hailed her as she'd moved along the deck one afternoon and stated that Ann was looking for her, down in the mess. Cora hadn't really questioned it until she stepped into the mess room minutes later and seen not Ann, but Jimmy, sat at the table and looking deeply uncomfortable.

She immediately put two and two together "Oh for God's sakes," She groaned "I'm going to my cabin!"

"Cora." Jimmy rose from the table and spread his hands in an attempt to appease her.

"What do you want?" She snapped, folding her arms tightly.

"I want to talk to you." He said seriously. "Sit down."

Still deeply annoyed by how easily she'd been tricked, she hesitated, torn between complying and storming out. The awkward silence yawned between them.

"If it gets any frostier between you two, all our toes are gonna start droppin' off." Lumpy suddenly grunted from where he was stood beyond the hatch. "Bloody talk to each other, I can't be doin' with all these dramatics." He smirked as the teenagers both shot twin glares at him, and lit another cigarette.

Tearing her dark look from the cook's back, Cora slumped into the nearest chair with a short, angry sigh.

Jimmy followed and after a few false starts finally gabbled out "About the other night - I didn't want to upset you."

"Well," she raised her eyebrows and shrugged sarcastically "You did. Good job, by the way."

"I'm sorry." When she didn't reply, he stressed it again. "I'm _sorry."_

She sighed, frustrated. "I heard you. Fine. I...accept your apology." After a pause, she asked what had been weighing on her mind. "What I want to know is, what _did_ you want to do?"

He shrugged back. "Give you some credit. I dunno. I'd have wanted to know where I was being taken off to. Didn't think you were going to get all upset like you did."

"Not my finest hour." She agreed meekly, setting her head in her hand.

"If I'd known-"

"You just didn't."

"But why?" He leant forwards curiously. "What made you so upset?"

"I reacted like I did because... because I'm..." She broke off, shaking her head. She'd said it to Alex quite easily, but then again she'd known Alex for years.

"I'm scared." She muttered eventually, trying to brush it off with a shrug. "I don't know what's going on and that frightens me."

Jimmy frowned "But you musta known the risks when you signed up for this?"

"That's just it, Jimmy." Cora cut in. "I didn't _sign up._ I wasn't given any sort of choice." When he still looking confused, she continued. "My mother's gone to Paris, France, for two weeks." She began quickly "She goes every year and she usually leaves me at home with the housekeeper. Only the housekeeper's gone home to see her son get hitched this time around and she - Mother - doesn't trust me on my own. That's kind of a long story, I'll spare the details."

"Hold up." He raised a hand to silence her. "Explain to me why didn't you go to France with her?"

Cora stared down at her hands, now clasped on the table. "She's embarrassed." She muttered to her crossed thumbs. "She's one of these real glamorous types, society darling, that sorta thing. And I'm...I'm me." She picked at a mark on the table.

"What's wrong with that?"

She smiled sadly, finally looking up to meet his eyes. "Come on. Just look at me."

"I am."

And he was, she suddenly realised. Every time they'd spoken, every time he'd looked at her, he'd given her his full attention. No distractions, no talking to anyone else over her shoulder. She'd become so accustomed to people talking to her via someone else, behind their backs, one eye on something else, through reflections, generalised announcements. Now, looking right into his eyes, she realised why she'd initially felt so criticised around him. She'd gotten too used to nobody ever bothering to really watch her.

She realised that she didn't want him to stop.

"If anyone wants my opinion-"

Cora flinched. She'd completely forgotten that the Brit was even there. It looked as though Jimmy had too, as he immediately looked away and acted overly innocent.

"Which they don't, but tough." He leant out of the kitchen hatch, a discoloured potato in one hand and making demonstrative gestures with the peeling knife in the other. "Take it from me, yer a good kid. Sounds like you've put up with a lot of crap, especially from," He snorted derisively _"Uncle Carl_. But you're not bad. You're a damn sight easier to deal with than him, too."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Cora called, glancing at Jimmy, who was trying not to laugh.

"Do. Thing is, I like yer." He pointed the knife at Jimmy _"He_ likes yer an' all, though he's rubbish at showing it."

"Lumpy..." The boy protested, the smirk falling from his face instantly.

"I swear! Reckon he likes having someone around who's not some grumpy old git."

She smiled, half at Jimmy's now obvious embarrassment "Thank you Lumpy."

He grunted something vague in reply and turned back to the potatoes. But when Cora turned back to Jimmy, there was a small smile on his face.

"Can I ask you a favour?" She asked.

"Anything." He coughed and added casually "If I have the time."

"You hear anything, you let me know, okay?" She insisted. "No secrets."

He nodded. "No secrets. Got it."

"Anyway." She stated determinedly, finally getting to her feet. "I've gotta go find Preston. And strangle him. I'll see you round."

"See you..." Jimmy mumbled as she left the room. He spotted Lumpy watching him through the hatch. "What?"

"Nice kid." He muttered, giving Jimmy a look out of his good eye. "Pretty girl."

He tried to shrug casually "It's not like that."

"I'm saying nothing."

"Hayes doesn't-"

"I'm not Hayes." The cook cut in pointedly, and Jimmy wouldn't realise what that meant until a long time afterwards.

* * *

><p>"Can any you fellas dance?" Carl addressed the gathered sailors who were all looking at him with expressions of amused contempt. "I'm not talkin' the damn waltz," He added, oblivious to the fact that he'd have more success drawing blood from a solid rock face. "Just y'know, something. Movement!"<p>

From her spot on the upper walkway, Cora smirked at her uncle's lack of progress. Leaning on the rusty railing, she looked from one crewman to the next, marvelling at their matching looks of disdain.

"Any luck Mr Denham?" Ann asked brightly, appearing suddenly from below deck. She was dressed simply but prettily in a skirt and embroidered blouse, her hair and makeup done and looking as lovely as ever. The change that came over the crew was quite remarkable, as shoulders were straightened, collars tugged into place and hair rapidly smoothed back.

"We can get some music goin'!" One offered, trying not to look too overly enthusiastic at the prospect. "If...if yer like."

"Great!" Ann placed her hands on her hips and looked around at them all. "Any dancers amongst you fellas?"

"Jimmy can!" A Scottish sailor loudly announced.

The first speaker grinned. "Yeah, our Jim can dance!"

Someone gave the boy an encouraging shove, despite his growled protests and embarrassed shuffling.

"Come on Jimmy!" Choy called.

"He's your dancer!"

"Yeah, 'ee's a regular twinkle toes." Lumpy declared, his gruff voice cutting through all their laughter. "Come on now lads, make some room. If we're gonna do this pantomime, we'll do it proper, yeah?"

Someone produced a guitar from below deck, another a large upright drum. Soon enough, the ragtag little band were storming through every song they knew, from old folk songs from various nationalities, to somewhat bawdier fare from the harbour bars.

The energy on deck soon became infectious, with even Captain Englehorn emerging from the wheelhouse briefly to see what all the commotion was about. Herb was smiling broadly from beside Carl as they filmed the energetic jig that Jimmy and Anne quickly put together. Cora quickly slipped down the steps to watch over Herb's shoulder, trying to envision how the scene would look onscreen. If the contagious vitality translated to film, it would be one of the highlights of the movie.

Cora noted that there had been some truth behind Lumpy's sarcastic declaration; Jimmy was light on his feet and threw himself into the little scene with no signs of embarrassment. He and Ann's dance, and the take, concluded with a showy flourish and applause broke out from the crowd. Cora found herself laughing as she clapped. "Bravo." She joked as Ann passed, smiling and out of breath.

The sailors struck up another tune, seemingly in no hurry to return to their duties and suddenly Jimmy was at her side.

He caught her gently by the elbow. "Come on! Now you."

"What?" She froze, caught off guard. "But - I don't dance." She stammered, poainfully conscious of Herb beside her laughing at her discomfort.

"Liar." Jimmy's eyes shone in amusement. "Come on!" His grasp slipped to her hand and before she could protest, he'd yanked her forward onto the impromptu dance floor.

A wry, teasing cheer went up from the sailors as Cora stumbled forward, quickly steadied by Jimmy's arms wrapped securely around her waist, one hand on his shoulder and the other clasped in his in a mockery of the waltz stance. She'd danced with young men at her mother's social functions, but this quick and simple embrace seemed so natural and so intimate. There was no pretention in her partner's eyes, none of the obsession with impressing their audience she'd seen before. When Jimmy danced, she realised, as they charged across the deck to another frenetic tune, it was for the pure joy of it.

She realised how she must look, her surprise showing on her face, and quickly rearranged her stunned expression into something a little less green. For the joy of it. She gave up all resistance and let the boy with eyes like the sea spin her around.

It was only when Englehorn soon after called a halt to proceedings, sending the men back to work that she allowed herself to bump back to reality. She laughed along with the others, half-reluctantly disentangling herself from his arms and walked off, trying to hide the rising blush in her cheeks from the odd vulgar joke she heard the sailor's call to Jimmy.

She thought back over the day's events later in her cabin and smiled to herself. After so many days of quiet, worrying paranoia, the last twenty four hours had taken a great weight off of Cora's shoulders. Revelations paired with some light relief made for an interesting mix, but one she found quite agreeable.

_'Liar.'_ His bluntness was refreshing. She felt herself blush again remembering the weight of Jimmy's arm on her waist, his hand in hers…

"You're being an idiot." She told herself firmly, but the smirk that lingered on her lips seemed to disagree. She reached for _Pride and Prejudice_, lulled into a sense of security by the continual motion of the ship.

She had no idea what the night would bring.


	10. The Storm

**AN: Holy crap, chapter ten! Shout out to everyone still sticking with this thing, especially Spirited Mare and CurlyNerdy101. Thanks for the lovely reviews, guys. Hope this chapter lives up to expectations.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten.<strong>

Something had woken her from her dozing. Her eyes fluttered open to find she'd fallen asleep halfway through Mr Collins' proposal to Elizabeth and she sat up, feeling a strange heaviness that Cora was sure had nothing to do with sleep. She gave herself a little shake, admonishing herself for her silliness, then stopped and concentrated.

Even she, the inexperienced sailor, couldn't miss the dramatic swerve the ship was taking.

She got up quickly, slipping her cardigan back over her arms and pulling on her shoes. Swiftly she headed back to the deck. Night had fallen, and the lamps cast a sickly yellow glow over everything, before the light vanished into the all-encompassing blackness of the ocean at night.

Carl was leaning heavily on the ship's railing, looking suicidal, Jack stood beside him. Cora hurried over and looked from one man to the other before speaking; "What's happening?"

When Carl said nothing, Jack sighed "Englehorn's setting a course for Rangoon. There's a warrant out for your uncle's arrest."

She suddenly felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown in her face. Icy, numb shock swamped over her. Cora looked at Carl, incredulous. "You're kidding me."

Jack shook his head and answered for him. "I'm sorry Cora, no."

"But what's gonna happen to us? What's gonna happen to me, am I gonna be stuck in Rangoon?" A sudden panicked feeling fluttered in the pit of her stomach. "Jack!"

"I don't know." The writer replied, trying to sound calm. "Listen, Cora, I will try my hardest to make sure-"

"Oh she'll get home alright." Carl muttered wretchedly from his spot, sounding deeply wounded. "In handcuffs, probably, but we'll all get home, no worry." he groaned, his sarcastic tone disappearing. "I'm finished. It's over for me, Jack."

Jack shook his head despairingly "How did you think this would end, Carl?"

"You're unbelievable." Cora muttered, still glaring at her film maker uncle. "You knew, didn't you? That the cops were after you."

Carl shrugged uselessly "I had…an inkling." Every word was like a colossal effort.

"You had an _inkling_." Cora choked a cold laugh. "You know something, my mother was right about everything. She should _never_ have left me with you, ever…" With a final look of loathing at Carl, Cora turned and rushed away, seething with anger. Shoving past Choy, who had been making his way to the deck, she hurried back down to her tiny cabin and flung herself through the door.

She collapsed down on the little bed, nearly hitting her head on the wall in the process, and kneaded her palms into her eyes, willing away the tears of rage that had appeared. She wondered how she'd feel now if Jimmy had never warned her – never told her to lurk outside the mess room door that night. Would this turn of events been an even greater shock? And now it seemed they'd be back home quicker than expected. "Isn't this what you wanted?" She mumbled to herself. After so many days of longing for home, for familiarity, she found that right now, New York was the last place on Earth she wanted to be. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she crossed to the porthole and looked out. The view was a blank, their surroundings thick, smothering fog. It seemed appropriate for her rapidly melancholic mood. She roughly wiped her eyes again. Crying had never helped her any.

Suddenly there was an almighty crash, followed instantly by a sickening crunch of crumpled metal. Cora's world seemed to jerk forward, whipping the floor suddenly from beneath her feet. She fell against the wall before hitting the ground in a crumpled heap, landing awkwardly on her arm. Too scared to feel embarrassed, she scrambled back to her feet. There were faint shouts outside. She wrenched the cabin door open and there was Ann, wrapped in a shawl and pale with alarm.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Her pretty face was uncharacteristically serious.

"What was that?" Cora spluttered.

"I don't know." She frowned, a trace of fear in her eyes. "Come on." Ann grabbed Cora's hand and together they raced up to the deck.

It was pandemonium. Sailors were rushing about, yelling panicked instructions to each other, a few traces of thick fog still hung in the air, making everything look dreamlike, and at the front of the ship-

"Ann, what is that?" Cora whimpered. _A wall._ Hundreds of feet high, solid rock, dark and imposing and completely unnatural…a wall. Hadn't Lumpy and Hayes' story mentioned a wall?

Before the actress could reply, the two were torn apart as the ship swayed and rocked, taken by the tide as if the whole vessel weighed no more than a leaf. The hull groaned in protest and Cora struggled to keep her footing, grabbing on to any fixtures she could to stop herself toppling over the side.

Something, she didn't know quite what, drew her eyes to the crow's nest and her heart plummeted in alarm. Jimmy was stood up there, a tiny figure against the inky sky. She watched, rooted to the spot, as he clung on for dear life, the momentum of the out of control ship doing its level best to fling him about like a rag doll.

"Rocks!" She heard Jack yell hoarsely from further down the deck, and the bad news was echoed by Jimmy high above them.

"Rocks to starboard ... to port ...rocks everywhere!"

Rocks. She could see them – vicious, jagged things, looming out of the murky water, appearing and disappearing with each rush of waves. She looked from one to the other, her mind wiped blank with pure fear. Another loud crunch from the side of the ship made her flinch backwards. She grabbed a nearby pole and hung on. There was nothing she could do but hold on, hold on and pray…

It must have been only minutes, but to Cora it seemed like a lifetime before the Venture finally settled and was still. The awkward angle of the deck made it plain that the ship had run aground, but Cora's shaking legs were simply grateful that things were still. She was alive. For now.

"Jimmy." She whispered, suddenly remembering, and rushed up the stairs, passing a few harassed sailors who paid her no heed in their hurry for repairs. Ahead she could see Jimmy descending the last few rungs of the ladder, pale faced, but otherwise unscathed.

She stopped in her tracks as Hayes reached the boy first, alarm written all over his face. She suddenly felt awkward and almost itchy with embarrassment, rushing forwards like that without a second thought. She watched, trying to appear casual, as Jimmy managed a weak smile and nodded in response to whatever Hayes had asked, she was too far away to hear what exactly. Hayes said something else and laughed in relief, clapping a hand to Jimmy's shoulder.

At that moment, both sailors looked up and spotted Cora lingering. She started in alarm and tried to find an excuse for her being there, but to her surprise, Hayes said one more thing to Jimmy, before giving him a gentle push towards her. Finally he gave Cora a look over Jimmy's shoulder and to Cora, the look said one thing very clearly; that he would let it go. This time.

She nodded once in understanding before turning her attention back to Jimmy. He was pale and looked a little shaken, but apart from that she was relieved to see he was still in one piece.

For a moment neither spoke, the shock of what had just happened to them all finally sinking in.

"...Are you okay?" She finally asked.

Jimmy nodded. "I think so."

She smiled and exhaled rapidly, her heartbeat beginning to return to normal. "Okay. Good. That's good. Great."

"What about you?" He frowned. "That was pretty bad. You weren't hurt, were you?"

"Me?" Reflexively she took her sprained wrist in her hand, but shook her head. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me." She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the dull ache at her temple. She must have banged her head too in the initial crash. "I'm really glad you're okay." She added quietly.

"Jimmy!" Hayes' patience had obviously reached its limit.

"Just coming." He turned back to Cora and smiled. "Take care of that hand. Looks like it's gonna bruise up good."

Despite of everything that had happened over the last hour, she couldn't help but smile as he left.

Making her way back down the stairs, Cora felt relieved to see first Ann, then Jack, Preston and Herb all safe, if a little shaken. And there was Carl. She allowed a small chuckle. Of course Carl Denham had lived to see another day. He was stood at the railing, oblivious to all around him, staring rapturously…

"Carl?" She followed his gaze and was struck dumb. Out of the fog, an island had unexpectedly emerged. Vast and imposing, the jagged cliffs seamed with what looked like the crumbling ruins of old defences. Now however they were all overgrown by moss and choking vines. Beyond was thick, tangled jungle, like the South American rainforests she'd heard about in school.

"My God…" She whispered faintly, feeling very small. "Carl…where are we?"

"Skull Island…" A hint of glee crept into his voice and he slapped her on the back. "Come on, we're goin' ashore."

She looked past him to see Herb and Mike preparing a small lifeboat. Ann was hovering nearby, looking concerned.

"Are you completely insane?" Cora hissed.

Carl's eyes glinted with his old maniacal energy. "It's not over yet Cora." He declared "I'm not gonna let them kill this. You coming or not?"

Over Carl's shoulder, Ann looked up and met Cora's eye. The girl was stunned to see a genuine helplessness in the woman's eyes and she remembered that Ann was getting paid for this - she had no choice.

Against her better judgement, she nodded. "Give me five minutes."


	11. Skull Island

**Chapter 11**

"I still don't know why they can't have an office on this side of the country." Eleanor Denham fixed a smile to her face and smoothed down the smart lapels of her husband's suit for something to do with her empty hands. "I'll miss you."

He grinned easily back, the trademark Denham smile, and tucked a finger under her chin. "Their manager has some ridiculous aversion to travel, it's flattery for us to come to him. And besides, it's only for a week. I'll be back before you know it." He kissed her before calling over her shoulder. "And where are my littlest ladies? Up to no good, no doubt!"

Giggling madly, his two young daughters came running into the room, one after the other. Well, he still thought them young – Sadie was fourteen now, and growing up fast. Sometimes Max felt like he had blinked and suddenly she was no longer a child. And Cora? Well, she was still very much a little girl, fascinated with stories and games and adventures. He hoped it would last for as long as possible.

"Daddy!" The smaller girl cried. "You gonna bring me back a present?"

"I'll have presents for all of you." He assured her "As long as you're good, okay? No tearing about the street after dark and other such nonsense." The smirk on his face clearly told his youngest that she had his _full _permission to tear about the street, despite her mother's claims.

He hugged them both, Cora squirming and protesting, despite the smile on her face, as he swung her into the air. Then he put on his coat and hat, waved through the closing front door and stepped into the car waiting outside.

It was the last time the Denham girls saw their father alive.

* * *

><p>"Can you believe this, Jack?" Carl declared with a sense of reverence. Their little whaler bobbed mercilessly on the tide, still active after the panic of the storm before.<p>

"Skull Island! We got our picture!"

Huddled in the back of the boat, Cora thought she could hear something under the relentless crashing of breaking waves. The weary groan of something very old and exhausted. Something protesting. About to bite.

She'd had just enough time to run back to her cabin and grab a coat, but there was a strange chill in the air and she wished she'd bought a scarf too. She glanced up around them, at the ruins of some old, abandoned native village, where the people had scratched out an existence on the rock face, like seafaring birds.

These ruins didn't just have history, they were ancient. Older than memory. Whatever – whoever – had inhabited here was long gone and forgotten. No record or remembrance.

Cora shivered.

Their packed little boat ran onto a stony slip of beach at the jagged mouth of a vast stone cage. As their tiny crew clambered ashore, Cora tried not to think of walking right into the gaping jaws of some mythical beast.

Carl intrepidly led the way, eyes wide and staring greedily. Every so often he'd shoot a smug grin back at them, that only Herb and Mike half-heartedly returned. They followed the director through a dark, damp tunnel, finally breaking free into the weak sunshine to be greeted with a morbid sight. Little stone constructions set up like funeral parlours. Dark, crudely constructed tombs with the faint smell of rotting seeping from within. Cora and Ann covered their noses at the stench.

Skulls lined every ridge like macabre ornaments, some with other bones of sticks threaded through them in painful looking combinations and rickety bamboo structures suggested some attempt at order. But the sun had bleached everything, rock, plant and bone, an ill, grey hue.

Carl was like a man possessed, hopping from spot to spot, the camera whirring away, pointed at a pile of skulls, or a crumbling set of steps.

The rest of them walked warily behind, looking from spot to spot, never relaxing their guard for a moment.

Cora could hear her blood rushing in her ears, the unnerving thump of her heartbeat against this infernal quiet. In New York, her home, it was never quiet, with the sounds of cars and trams, street vendors, general chit-chat and all the sounds of life. Here, the silence was suffocating. She swallowed hard, and looked up to suddenly see Jack and Preston both staring uneasily at her.

"What?" She squeaked anxiously.

Jack frowned "Was that you?"

She looked between them. "Was what me?"

"That noise – it was a girl…" Jack trailed off and glanced around uneasily. "Never mind. Stay close, alright?"

Cora nodded and quickened her step to catch up.

"It's deserted." Preston murmured as they emerged onto a rocky plateau, surrounded by more of the stone tombs.

"Of course it's deserted." Carl snapped "Use your eyes, Preston. The place is a ruin! Nobody's lived here for hundreds of years."

Gradually Cora edged over towards her uncle, still casting wary looks back over her shoulders. "We shouldn't be here Carl." She muttered. Every instinct was screaming at her to run back to the ship as fast as her legs would take her.

Carl snorted and adjusted the camera. "Whaddya talkin' about? Stop worrying..."

"I'm serious," she picked anxiously at her shirt cuff. "This place is weird. I'm getting a really bad feeling."

"A feeling!" Carl laughed. "You've been listening to too many of the crew's ghost stories-"

"Yeah, well maybe with good reason!" Cora snapped. "Open your eyes Carl, they were spooked and you know damn well why. The fog. The wall. Everything fits. The only thing left..."

Carl sighed and dramatically rolled his eyes "Will you pipe down? You gotta problem Cor, you can go back to the boats anytime."

Was it her mind playing tricks on her, or was there some high pitched wailing voice, far away on the wind?

"Carl…"

He groaned heavily "Will you shut up?!"

"Fine." Anger and her own stubbornness spiked hot in her throat. "I'm going." She tried to make the words a determined snap, but it came out wobbly. "I'll see you guys."

She waved away Preston's concerned stammerings, and ungracefully stomp-stepped back across the rock. Back down the steps, stumbling a little where the ground was uneven. She huffed angrily, kicking a loose stone and watching it bounce away like a child's marble, the tapping it made seemed to go on longer, and faster, until she realised that it wasn't the stone tapping onto the rocky plateau.

"Fantastic." She groaned, raising her face to the falling droplets.

The drops swiftly turned into an almost unnatural downpour, like some heavenly being had turned on a valve. Cora winced, feeling her clothes instantly cling to her limbs like dead fingers and made to quicken her pace.

Suddenly a woman's scream rent the air. Cora started in shock. "Ann!" She made to go back but had barely taken three steps when another noise reached her ears, freezing her to the spot.

This was different. This was no woman's shriek or man's yell. This was a mighty roar, animalistic - no...Completely unnatural. She wavered, torn between fear and wanting to help her friend, the rain blinding her and her pulse racing in her throat, too fast and uncomfortable.

Suddenly something hit her, caught her, sent her nearly spinning. In an instant, the ship's crew were swarming past her, yelling to each other, all armed, all intent on their destination. She was invisible and knocked, again and again until –

Until someone stopped, steady as a rock and right there beside her. It was Hayes. She grasped at his offered arm like a lifeline, wordless with fright.

"Are you all right Miss Denham?" He yelled over the noise.

Nodding frantically, she finally managed to speak, "Fine, I'm fine, but the others-" her words were cut off by a series of gunshots.

Hayes tucked an arm protectively around her shoulders and herded her on, putting her into the middle of their group. As she glanced back behind them, she spotted Jimmy sticking close by.

As they returned to the abandoned village, she could have sworn she saw a shadowy figure retreating in panic – but her attention was caught up with the terrible scene before her.

Ann was hysterical, tears pouring down her face as two of the crew helped her to her feet. Jack was sprawled on the ground, dead or unconscious, Cora couldn't tell, as she watched Choy try to shake him awake. The crewmen they'd bought ashore lay like broken dolls on the rock, their skulls brutally dented and bloody.

And Mike – good god…_Mike… _Her stomach turned. He'd been skewered like a piece of meat with a vicious looking spear. There was still a surprised expression on his face like even he hadn't seen it coming, his glasses fractured.

She edged back as the diluted blood ebbed towards her toes, accidentally nudging into Preston, who was shaking with fright and pale as a ghost.

"What happened?" Cora whispered.

Preston shook his head violently, stammering as he spoke. "W-we're not alone."

"What do you mean? Where's Carl?" She whispered.

Preston pointed, and he must have said something, but Cora found she was already striding clumsily towards her cowering uncle, crouched on the rocky ground and splattered with someone else's blood.

"I told you!" She realised she was practically screaming at him. "I told you this place was weird!"

A shadow fell across them and Cora glanced up to see Englehorn staring at her uncle with a look of resigned disdain.

"Seen enough?"

Not waiting to see Carl's reaction, Cora nodded.

Back on the ship it seemed like the rain storm earlier was just a taster of what was to come. The rain continued to slice down in sharp sheets, saturating everything. The wind and thunder combined rumbled and crashed to an almost deafening degree, and every so often, jagged bolts of lightning illuminated the ship with ghostly flashes.

It was literally all hands on deck, the crew flinging anything heavy overboard, manically attempting to get the ship back afloat. Cora tried to help where she could, her clothes drenched and her hair a tangled mess she repeatedly was pushing away from her face.

The grim and drawn faces of her fellow passengers flashed past every few seconds – Hayes, Choy, Preston, Herb, Lumpy, Jimmy…

They'd run into each other - briefly, and stumbled to a halt, awkward and lost for words, before both being called away once more. Jimmy had gently touched her arm as he'd rushed away and it had felt like an electric shock.

Preston had caught her by the shoulders and ordered her below deck. Cora had wanted to help, but realised she was better out of the way. For once, she obeyed, shutting the cabin door firmly behind her and sitting bolt upright on the bed, worrying the blanket between her fingers. Every creak and thud made her flinch, as worst case nautical scenarios threatened her mind. She thought of Sadie, in California. Sadie didn't know she was here…her sister didn't even know Cora had left New York…

Between the crashes of the waves and the howling winds, she could just pick out voices, the panicked and desperate yells of the crew. Some accented, some less so, but all cut off by the din of the elements.

Suddenly – a creak. Another creak. Closer. Too close. _Right outside the door._ Cora held her breath; quite sure that her pounding heart could be heard loud and clear. Someone was there. Something. She wanted to call out – _who's there? –_ but something, deep down, muted her with a terror she couldn't quite identify.

Another creak. And another. But lesser. Moving away. Cora wrapped a hand over her mouth to exhale, cautious of making noise – for some reason. As her heartbeat slowed, she tried to calm her fretting self down.

Think of something reassuring. Home. Think of Sadie and her books. Or Alex and little Jenny – or – or…

But she couldn't concentrate on any of these. Not when they seemed like a lifetime away. The memories seemed false and forced- were they what had really happened, or was she pushing something that had never been? This place, this island, this whole voyage, made her feel like every step she took meant another step she could never go back.

Drawing her knees up to her chest and closing her eyes tight shut, she resigned herself that the only comforting thing her fraught mind could focus on was dancing with a ship's boy.


End file.
